


You Should be Scared of Me

by QuietIndifference



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Plot With Porn, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:45:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5896909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietIndifference/pseuds/QuietIndifference
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing Rick does is in good conscience. </p><p>(AKA Rick drinks for good reasons.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rick Sanchez is very drunk as he stumbles into his grandson’s room late at night. He’s already slurring nonsense before Morty blinks awake. 

Morty leans up expectantly, looking unfazed at the drunk's intrusion, frankly accustomed to Rick’s habits. Slowly Morty’s expression morphs from sleepy to annoyance. He gets so little sleep already. Morty’s just waiting for Rick to either pass out or drag him out on an impromptu adventure, but instead Rick sits down unsteadily on his bed. 

“Riicck,” whines Morty, unable to comprehend anything his grandfather is saying so far. 

Rick is swaying wobbly as he looks at Morty and smiles. “Hey buddy,” he crones. “J-J-uuurr-st thought I’d say hello to my favorite person.” 

Late night, drunken sentiment from Rick is not uncommon, but it still makes Morty blush pleasantly. 

“Aw geez, Rick” he says, “you’re, you’re pretty drunk.”

Belching loudly, Rick sarcastically responds. “Wh-w-ART ma-makes you say that, huh, Morty?” Rick is smiling his classic, shit-eating grin. 

Morty rolls his eyes in a huff. “Come on Rick, I, I would really like to get some sleep f-for once.”

Rick doesn’t hear Morty’s complaints. He's far too drunk to observe his surroundings except what’s directly in front of him. And in his direct line of sight is Morty, wearing his obnoxiously bright yellow shirt. It’s like a beacon, signaling Rick closer to the naïve, annoying Morty. He’s like a promise of redemption, if Rick could only be more like him. 

_In the back of Rick’s mind he also knows Morty is his utter destruction and damnation._

Morty shifts uncomfortable, detecting a change in Rick’s demeanor as he leans in closer.

“Rick?” asks Morty timidly.

It’s as if he’s falling in slow motion, Rick thinks. His eyes lock on Morty’s thin, pale mouth. Everything else swims in his vision except for those soft, partially parted lips. 

Morty’s heartbeat is deafening in his ears as he allows Rick to slowly (so slowly) close the space between their lips. Despite feeling frozen he closes his eyes in anticipation of the kiss. 

Everything goes dark and blurry when Rick’s lips touch Morty’s in a chaste kiss. His eyes remain open, but he sees only black. His only sense fully functioning is touch and the dry lips connected to his and their slight quiver as he begins to pull away are his whole world for a brief second.

Morty breathes an airy sigh, feeling weak and flushed. Rick looks away, still swaying unsteadily.

“Yeah, Morty,” he says. “You’re a good kid, Morty.”

Rick needs to be sick. He places a shaky hand on Morty’s shoulder as he pushes himself off the bed. He feels guilt and shame roil violently in his stomach, but he represses it. He’s bothered Morty enough tonight; he’ll go puke somewhere other than his grandson’s bedroom. 

Morty’s voice wavers nervously as he wishes Rick good night. His grandfather raises a hand in response as he stumbles out of his room and into the night.

“G-geez,” exhales Morty, falling back onto his pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday morning the Smith’s sit together for breakfast. Rick isn’t present, neglecting food to work on an invention instead. Beth would prefer he joined them, but she picks her battles and allows him to tinker away instead of instructing him to join them. 

“Please be safe, Morty,” Beth wishes her son as he quickly excuses himself from the table, knowing he’ll probably be roaming the galaxy with her father today. 

“Do-don’t worry Mom, I will be!” he promises. 

Morty shuffles toward the garage feeling anxious and jumpy. The kiss from last night is a searing pain in his memory. It’s dangerous and hot, but exciting and Morty knows it’s a pain he’s going to poke and prod at again and again.

He lets himself into the garage to see Rick dissecting a strange looking plant. Rick doesn’t look toward him, but indicates he knows Morty is there by asking for his grandson to fetch him a scalpel.

Morty passes Rick the scalpel and as Rick reaches out to grab it, Morty purposely lingers his fingers on Rick’s hand. His fingers are boney, they look pale and fragile compared to Rick’s aged hand, but Morty’s fingers trace his skin purposely with clear intent. 

The touch between the two is electrifying. Rick takes a swing of alcohol for courage before meeting Morty's earnest gaze. As Morty leans in closer, Rick flashes back the night before. The drunken swaying, Morty’s repugnant yellow shirt, and that gentle kiss, not their first kiss shared and probably not their last. 

Feeling unusually daring, Morty leans in to kiss Rick on the mouth, but a sudden wave of hesitation and fear has him kissing Rick’s cheek instead. He pulls away quickly and scrunches up his shirt in his nervous and sweaty fingers. He wrings his hands together embarrassed he lost his nerve to kiss Rick. It isn't the first time he's done that. Actually, it's almost always Rick who kisses Morty, Morty's nerve usually always failing him.

It’s been like this for months. The two exchanging soft kisses between bouts of courage and drunkenness. 

Morty’s face flushes completely red as he diverts his eyes elsewhere, trying to think of something to do to look busy.

Rick forces himself to laugh, even though it sounds hollow to him, he does it for Morty’s sake.

“Kiss much?” teases Rick. He elbows Morty playfully who just smiles nervously back. “Thought you had more experience, geez, you—you act like a real school girl, y’know?” 

Rick quickly consumes more alcohol to suppress that train of thought from furthering. He warns himself not think too much about how Morty is rightfully innocent, how young and inexperienced he actually is.

Looking at Rick with his wide, doe eyes, Morty coyly stutters, “W-well ma-maybe I ju-just need som-some mo—muh-more practice, huh?”

For a moment Rick is startled by Morty’s words. The boy is staring at him longingly and Rick’s gaze rests heavily on Morty’s lips. The desire to properly kiss Morty is crushing. He unmistakably wants to end their shy, chaste kissing with something rougher, something _realer_.

He takes another swallow of alcohol thoughtlessly. It is second nature for him to down as much alcohol as possible when he’s around Morty. He needs to be drunk; else it is too early _(and too wrong)_ for him to be flirting with his grandson. He returns to his dissection, grateful he has a temporary distraction from his tempting companion. 

As Rick analyzes the alien plant in front of him, Morty smiles softly to himself. The smile is unarguable in his satisfaction of making his grandfather blush (if the red flush creeping up his neck is any indication).

The day passes by smoothly as Rick throws back more alcohol and Morty timidly watches him work. The space between their bodies is nonexistent as Morty asks useless and ignorant questions. Rick knows it’s all an excuse, but he’s reluctant to point it out. His body feels warm and fuzzy from the alcohol, but where Morty’s skin meets his own is invigorating. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rick’s hand shakes as he dumps the remaining alcohol into his empty stomach. He hasn’t had anything to eat all day and his vision is precarious and uncertain.

He hasn't been this drunk in some time.

Morty straddles his lap, mewing lustfully as he grinds against Rick’s crouch. Rick isn’t too sure how things progressed this far, realizing he may be a little blacked out. Regardless of how, he knows he wants this and grabs the boy’s hips, guiding him into a steady pace.

“Rick!” pants Morty, throwing back his head as he gives into the flood of sensations.

A deep growl forms in Rick’s throat. Any of his usual inhibitions about what he is currently doing drowned out by the alcohol in his veins and lust in his groin. He grabs fistfuls of Morty’s hair and yanks back roughly. Morty involuntarily gasps and Rick seizes the opportunity to run his teeth and tongue on the sensitive and soft throat.

Morty’s hips buck up erratically, his erection desperately seeking attention. Morty is an absolute wreck fueling Rick’s lust as he grasps tightly onto the lapels of his lab coat. 

“P-puh-please, Ri-ickk” begs Morty. He looks at him urgently. 

The look exchanged between them kindles a fire in Rick’s belly. He hears Morty’s pleas for more, feels his own fervent desire, wants to give Morty everything he wants, but Rick’s eyes unintentionally slide to his empty flask. 

_Alcohol_ , he thinks. _Need some more alcohol._ The thought rings loud and indisputable in his head.

“Morty? Dad?”

Beth’s distant, but encroaching voice has the two of them dashing to untangle themselves. Even in his drunken stupor, Rick manages to push Morty off of him and straighten his clothes. Morty does the same as Beth opens the door to the garage and pokes her head in.

“Dinner’s ready!” she smiles.

“Th-aungghh-anks, Beth. We, we’ll be right there honey.”

Beth nods and leaves, seemingly not noticing anything strange or out of the ordinary. 

Taking a moment to recover his wits Rick slumps down at his workbench.

“That—that was—“ _so wrong_ “stupid,” says Rick, reprimanding both of them, but mainly himself. It was pretty ballsy of them to try to get it on with Morty’s family around and close by. It was the first time they did anything like that but nonetheless forgivable. 

Rick’s heart rate is fast and erratic, he feels drowned in alcohol, guilt, and lust.

The moment Beth is gone Morty shamefully, but without subtlety palms at his erection straining against his jeans. His mind scrambles to make sense of Rick’s unexpected and aggressive attentions. He feels startled, but cannot deny how hot it was to straddle Rick and hear him moan beneath him. 

The other day Morty thought he was content with the reserved kisses he and Rick had been sharing the past couple months. The kisses were small and simple expressions of their taboo feelings and yearnings. Morty had thought it was enough, but now that he’s had more he wants it _all_ and wants it _now._

Seeing Morty flagrantly touch his obvious arousal is enthralling to Rick. Unable to hold back his snickering he teases his keening grandson. “Suuu-such a sssslut, Morty” he slurs. 

Morty moans, looking at Rick with lustful eyes.

His own member twitches and grows at the sight of Morty giving him “do me” eyes. God, he wants to fucking pin Morty against a wall and make him beg to be fucked. It’s a tempting fantasy, but no, no, stop; it’s time for dinner.

Rick shakes his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. “We, we can’t do that again, Mo-OURRRR-ty.” 

All too quickly Morty’s gaze goes from lustfully desperate to frantic. 

“W-w-why?” cries Morty.

Gesturing dramatically towards the door where Beth stood not a minute ago Rick gives Morty a dubious look. 

“Du-duuuhh” rumbles Rick. “We-we can’t risk getting caught. We- can’t do this—that again in-in-in—“ Rick stumbles, unsure if he really wants to say what he’s about to next “th-the house, Mor-ty.”

The implication of Rick's words brings clear relief to Morty’s face. He thanks the universe Rick isn’t putting an end to it _(whatever it is)_ altogether. 

Morty's evident relief makes Rick’s tongue feel like it is lead and his stomach a violent, churning sea. Without another word he pushes himself up from the bench and stumbles to join the rest of the family at the dining table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps not my best work, I hope these two chapters haven't been too confusing or inconsistent.
> 
> General first impressions and criticism are always welcomed.


End file.
